Disequilibrium

New word for me from economics class this morning: disequilibrium. Maybe it's not a new word -- I probably learned it back in Mr. Dittmore's Junior Achievement Applied Economics class. I don't remember jack diddly from my college econ classes. But it felt new to me today. In economics, if equilibrium is the point (price or quantity) where the needs of buyers and sellers are all satisfied, then disequilibrium basically means the loss or lack of stability of equilibrium. And in the short-term, it can cause a supply shortage and higher prices.

Right now it feels like Liz and I keep drifting in and out of a personal state of disequilibrium. Lack of stability, lack of balance. A shortage of energy, motivation, optimism... But we usually balance each other out. And after the short-term shocks, we find a new equilibrium.

We have been married nearly 14 years. We recognized just over 10 years ago that we could either let challenges and circumstances define our relationship and call it off, or we could decide to define our own relationship and allow our experiences to strengthen us and bring us closer together. It really wasn't much of a choice: we picked each other and we chose the latter. The beauty of our relationship is that, most of the time, when one is down, the other is up. We're a team.

We're each dealing with this cancer craziness in different ways. I laugh and joke and smile and keep my chin up (and write a blog!) to defend against pity stares and deflect any sad stories people might want to share out of the goodness of their hearts. And occasionally I totally lose it and bawl. Liz internalizes and thinks, and she would much rather focus on helping others than allow anyone else to worry about her.

So sometimes we can both crash. That was yesterday.

We're now equilibriumizationized again. It takes effort and communication, which require time and energy, both of which are in short supply. So we're doing the best we can, absorbing information and ideas and plans and thoughts as we go along. Picking up the slack when one loses grip. Them boys of ours are the best reasons to keep pushing forward and find equilibrium when we lose it.

I added a new question to Cohen's nighttime routine tonight. I told him a few good things that have happened lately, and I asked him if he had any questions about mom's cancer or about the medicine she's taking, anything at all. He said, "Yes, I have a question."

When will mom's hair grow back forever?

Why does the medicine make her tired?

Does she feel sick?

When will she be all better?

What happens if the medicine doesn't work?

What happens if the one we try next doesn't work?

Woah. That all came out fast. So I answered as honestly and optimistically I could, without over- or under-promising and without burdening him with detail or lack of clarity. He's 6, with a mind going on 16, after all. I don't want him to worry about the future at this point, but I want to always try to tell him the truth. Gotta find a way to keep him talking and asking and sharing, because behind each word are many hours of thought and internal deliberation.

Then we chatted about what I think are his big concerns:

1)  You are safe, and you will always taken care of. Mom is sick right now, and it's true that our routines have changed a bit. People are helping out more, but she's still the boss of this house. And she and I love you and your brothers more than anything in the world. We will not forget you or what you need, even while mom isn't feeling great.

2)  You didn't do anything to make mom sick, none of this is your fault. I know you want her to get better. So do I! We'll do everything we can to help her feel better. But you need to know that you didn't cause this, you have done nothing wrong. It's no one's fault.

3)  You're not sick. You can't catch cancer like a cold. Mom has it, but you can't get it from her. You should hug and kiss her as much as you want! The more the better.

4)  It's OK to be scared and sad sometimes. Sometimes I am scared and sad too. And sometimes I cry too, but it makes me feel better. Cancer is a scary disease, so it's OK to have strong feelings. But we are a strong family and we love each other. We will work together as a team and help each other smile and be strong. It's fine to feel sad or angry as long as we don't hurt others with those feelings.

"Deal. Good night, Dad."

What a great boy. And his brothers. And their mom. Couldn't be happier with our little family. I guess that the more I focus on them, the more sense of equilibrium and stability I get. Probably how it's supposed to work.

Go Team Liz!